


Airborne

by atrata



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Veritaserum
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-05
Updated: 2007-01-05
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:54:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atrata/pseuds/atrata
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snape has ways of making you talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Airborne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gaycrow](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gaycrow).



"What are you doing here, Potter?" Snape whirled, looking furious.

"I had detention with Filch," Harry responded without thought, his voice flat and toneless and unfamiliar. He wondered what was going on. "But someone hexed Mrs. Norris so he told me to come find you. I thought about skiving off but I knew you'd find out and I'd get in even more trouble so I went to get my map and followed it down here."

Harry felt dizzy, almost too dizzy to pay attention to the words spilling out of his mouth. But he'd been paying enough attention to know he needed to leave. He inched towards the door.

"Do you know where you are, Potter?" Snape asked, his voice a silken purr. His eyes glinted maliciously, and there was a strange shimmer about his head.

"Third level of the dungeons, northwest corner of the castle," Harry said automatically. "A potions laboratory."

"Indeed. My _private_ laboratory, Potter. Can you guess what I'm working on?"

Harry sniffed cautiously at the air and coughed, the acrid stench burning his lungs. "No, but it smells terrible. And it's making me dizzy." He was almost close enough to the door to reach the knob.

"'It,' Mr. Potter, is airborne veritaserum," Snape said slowly, sick pleasure evident in every syllable.

"I should go," Harry said, his hand finally on the doorknob.

"Oh, I think not," Snape said softly. Harry felt wards slam into place, and he was thrown backwards. He was just able to stop himself falling, his hands clutching desperately at the edge of one of the tables. "Aren't you worried someone might -- take advantage of you in your vulnerable state?"

"Yes," Harry said quickly. "You."

"Very astute," Snape said, a look of hateful satisfaction on his face. "But tell me -- what are you worried I might ask?"

Harry closed his eyes. "That, for one," he said. He wanted to scream and yell and pound Snape into the ground, but all he could do was answer, the creepy unfamiliar monotone betraying him with every syllable. "About how those ingredients disappeared in second-year and what I do under my Invisibility Cloak and how we helped Sirius escape and what I think about while I--"

"Enough, Potter," Snape said, waving his hand in the air. Harry almost collapsed in relief, finally able to stem the tide of incriminating words spilling out of his mouth. Strangely, Snape didn't look angry in the least. "Sit."

Harry slid onto a nearby stool and watched warily as Snape did the same, picking up a notebook in which he'd obviously been scrawling observations. He scratched something across the page, shot a speculative look at Harry, and drew his wand. Harry felt his eyes widen, but Snape just said "_spira_," which seemed to have no effect other than making the room smell instantly better. Harry took a deep breath, and Snape started quizzing him on the effects of the potion: how he felt physically, what kind of compulsions he was experiencing, what the air smelled like.

While answering, Harry experimented with resisting. After all, he could resist the Imperius, and he didn't think veritaserum ought to be too much trouble. But even as his brain tried to fight the effects, answers spilt from his lips. It was as if he was listening to someone else speak. The realization alarmed him, but Snape spent so much time asking about the potion that Harry began to hope he might emerge from the interrogation unscathed.

He really should have known better.

"Thank you for your services, Potter," Snape said dryly, setting his notebook aside when he was finished. Harry jumped off the stool and bolted for the door, but Snape's wards were still up. Harry pushed at them in frustration, but it did no good, and he jumped in surprise when he heard Snape's low rumble directly behind him. "Leaving so soon?"

"I'm trying," Harry said, closing his eyes as a shudder ran through his body. Snape was so close that Harry could feel his body heat seeping into Harry's own, his breath ghosting over Harry's ear.

"Wise boy. What are you planning?"

A wave of nausea washed over Harry as his mind tried to summon every conceivable answer to the question. Harry wrapped his arms around himself and finally said, "I don't understand. I-- I'm planning to go back to Gryffindor Tower."

"You've been watching me, Potter. Staring. Why?"

Another wave of nausea hit him, but this one had nothing to do with the drug. "I've been thinking about kissing you."

Silence. He could feel Snape behind him, stock-still, only inches away. He didn't dare turn around.

"Kissing me." Snape sounded dubious.

"Yes."

"You've been thinking about kissing me."

"Yes." Harry tried to snap, but his voice was still oddly flat. He could _hear_ Snape smirking.

"What about it?"

"About what it would be like. How it would taste."

"And?"

Harry looked over his shoulder and met Snape's smirk with his own. "_And_ I think it would taste terrible," he said, finally able to put some emphasis on his words. "I think it would be hard and cold and awful and I think your tongue is -- is slimy like a fish!"

Harry's heart was pounding in his heaving chest, and he wasn't sure how much any of it had to do with the veritaserum and how much had to do with the fact that Snape's lips were inches away from his own. He stared at them, watched as they twitched.

"Want to find out?"

Snape's voice was pitched low and dangerous, and Harry shuddered, pinned between Snape and the door.

"Yes," Harry snapped. More than that, though, he wanted to punch Snape in the face. He was pretty sure Snape was trying not to laugh.

"Really," Snape murmured, and long yellow fingers shot into view and curled around Harry's chin, far more gently than Harry ever would have credited. "You want me to kiss you?"

"Yes," Harry snapped again, hating Snape, hating those fingers on his chin, cool and strong and callused and very distracting. Snape was very definitely trying not to laugh. Harry really, really hated him.

"Why?"

"Because I think you know how and because you don't care about snogging Harry Potter and because I've never kissed a bloke before and I think I'd like it better."

Snape raised an eyebrow and leaned in closer. "Even though my tongue is slimy like a fish? Are you interested in kissing fish, Mr. Potter?"

"No!"

"Mm. Interesting." Snape was practically purring, his fingers stroking Harry's jaw line. Harry thought about biting them. "What's in it for me?"

"Making me miserable," Harry ground out. "You can blackmail me later. And you might like it."

Snape's fingers tightened and he lowered his head, closing the remaining distance between them. "Let's find out."

**FIN**


End file.
